Buttercups and Babies
by asphaltcowgrrl
Summary: In celebration of a fabulous collar, Travis invites Wes back to his place for pizza and a beer... what they wind up with in the end, is something else completely.
1. Chapter 1

"_To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves." _

― _Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma _

The beginning of the end - March

"Hey," Travis called, striding to Wes' side, "I figured you might still be here."

"Of course I am," Wes replied, irritated. "There's still paperwork to be done, not that you would know that. Where did you disappear to after the interrogation anyway?"

"I had an appointment I needed to keep," he countered. "What's left to do? Want to pass me one of those reports?"

"No," Wes clipped out, "I'm on the last one." He was pissed, it was just like Travis to vanish when the boring part of the job called. "And I bet you had an appointment. What's her name this time? Candi? Miranda? Bunny? Something even more ridiculous?"

"Man, I've never dated no woman named _Bunny_, that's just weird. And I'm serious. I had to see my doctor."

Wes looked up at him for the first time. "Doctor? Everything… okay? No rampant STD's?"

"Ha ha, very funny. But no – clean bill of health as per always." Travis brushed the fingers of one hand nonchalantly across the length of his other forearm. "Just needed my yearly physical… and get that updated p-patch. You know, just in case."

Wes' eyes were wide and staring. "_Just_ _in case_, Travis? Do you make it a habit to sleep with random men these days? Often enough that there's a worry you'll get _pregnant_?"

Travis shrugged. "Sometimes. If there's an itch, I scratch it. Is that so wrong?"

"No," Wes admitted reluctantly, "I guess not. I just don't understand why… but, never mind."

He shoved the completed report into the proper file and glared at his partner. Some unknown emotion gnawed at his gut, aggravating and confusing him. Why should he care if Travis was sleeping with men – with anyone – really? Travis cocked his head to the side and watched his partner closely. Wes could see the wheels turning within his head but prayed he couldn't read the conflict he felt certain was written all over his face.

"Oh-kaaay. So, I take that to mean you don't have one then?"

"No, of course not. Why would I? I have no desire to have sexual relations with another man and I have little doubt that's going to change anytime soon."

Travis lifted his eyebrows in question. "There are things…"

"Yes, Travis," Wes interrupted, "I know. _Things _that happen. Assualts and drunken hookups and a lot more. But I carry a gun, remember, so an assault is highly unlikely to get that far."

"And the drunken hookups?" Travis was teasing him now, but Wes was oblivious in his anger.

"I'd like to believe that, at this point in our professional relationship, you would know that I do not allow myself to indulge in alcohol – or anything – so much that I get stupid enough to have a one night stand." Wes stood and began stuffing his arms into his suit jacket.

"Famous last words," Travis teased again.

"Shut up," Wes growled.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm kidding, man. Besides, you made one hell of a collar this afternoon. I want to take you out, celebrate."

"No thanks," Wes spat, unsure of why he was suddenly so angry with Travis.

"Please?" Travis batted his long, dark lashes, convincing Wes with the flash of his crystal blue eyes.

Wes sighed. "You're not going to leave me alone until I say yes, are you?"

Travis shook his head, grinning broadly. "Nope, sure won't."

"Fine, what did you have in mind?"

"Pizza and a beer at my place?"

Pizza and a beer. He should have expected as much. To his surprise, however, it sounded like exactly what he needed. This case had been hell and they both needed to unwind. "Okay. I need to change. How about I meet you at yours in half an hour?"

Travis nodded. "That sounds perfect. See you in thirty. Don't be late." He waved to his partner and headed for the exit.

"Late. You mean like you always are?" Wes shook his head and grabbed his keys. "I'm going to regret this," he muttered. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day."

"It's open," Travis shouted over the R&B music blaring from his stereo.

Wes let himself in, cringing at the loudness of Travis' trailer. He turned the music down several decibels and found Travis in the tiny kitchen, maneuvering a pizza box and a bottle of a golden liquid. "Now I understand why you don't respond when I ask you a question. You're not ignoring me, you're deaf."

"Naw man," Travis grinned, "I'm ignoring you. Sit. Pizza just got here and I'm starving."

He took a plate from Travis and helped himself to some pizza, impressed that his partner had thought to order a salad in addition to the requisite garlic knots and molten-lava chicken wings. Granted, it was an antipasto salad, loaded with meat and cheese, but also loaded with veggies. Probably the healthiest thing Travis had ingested all week.

"Here," Travis held out a Dixie cup of the golden liquid he'd been holding earlier.

"What's this," Wes asked, concerned. "I thought you had beer?"

"Never thought I'd see the day when you would prefer a beer, Wes. I must've finished what I had left last night because there isn't any in the fridge. By the time I noticed, it was too late to go out. So, you get this instead."

Wes sniffed the liquid and made a face. "Again I ask: what is this?"

"Tequila." Travis held back a grin while watching Wes' face contort from mild curiosity to outright worry. "But don't fret, I brought out the good stuff – Sammy Hagar's _Cabo Wabo_. It's smooth, just like a baby's bottom. Try it."

"Travis, I don't drink tequila. I hardly drink beer."

"I know, but I don't have any Johnnie Walker lying around."

Wes wouldn't be caught dead drinking Johnnie Walker, his tastes ran to more refined scotch, but he wasn't going to split hairs with Travis. He was making an effort, trying to congratulate Wes on doing something right, instead of haranguing him for being uptight or any number of other things. He owed Travis something for this, so he took a sip.

The tequila slid down his throat, warming a path straight to his stomach. Travis had been right, it was smooth, not nearly as smooth as his usual scotch, but it didn't burn like the cheap stuff did either. Tilting the cup, he looked into it, unconsciously running his tongue along his bottom lip. "That's actually not too bad, Travis."

Travis smiled, hopeful. "See? I can make a good decision once in a while. More?" He held up the bottle in offering.

"Ah hell, why not?"

Travis poured them each another hit, toasting with his paper cup before digging into his pizza.

"One more hit," Travis slurred, holding up the nearly empty bottle. "I think there's enough for one more."

"Nooooo," Wes laughed, waving his hands vaguely in Travis' direction. "I should have stopped five cups ago."

Travis leaned in across the narrow table. "I think maybe we both should have… but, there's only a teeny bit left so…"

Wes held out his cup. "No point in putting a swallow back in the cupboard, is there?"

"Nope, none at all," Travis agreed, pouring.

Wes held up his cup preparing to toast one last time when he noticed the design on the outside. "Travis? Why are there seahorses on your cups?"

Travis laughed heartily. "I saw my favorite foster mom last week. She bought these for me as a kid and thought it'd be funny to give me a pack."

This struck Wes as much funnier than it should have been, laughter rolling out of him, unstoppable. "What would she say if she knew you were using them to share a bottle of tequila with your partner?"

He shrugged. "She'd probably say, 'that's my boy'. She was my favorite foster mom for a reason."

Wes grinned, really grinned for the first time in forever. So much so that his eyes crinkled around the corners and that elusive dimple made an appearance. "I think she might be my favorite now, too."

"I'll be sure to tell her that. Hey Wes, can I make a confession?" Travis put his empty cup onto the table, locking his gaze on his partner.

"Sure, Trav, go ahead."

"I find you incredibly sexy. Always have, even when you're being a dick."

"I never!" he protested before realizing that yeah, he did. Often. "Yeah, okay, so I can be. But really? Me? You find me attractive?" This was news that his agave-soaked brain wasn't quite able to process.

"Yeah, really," Travis confirmed. "You can be such a tight ass sometimes, but you're also damn smart and that turns me on. Your aforementioned tight ass doesn't hurt either." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, garnering a blush out of the other man.

Wes laughed. So he was a tight ass with a tight ass, who knew? Well, besides Travis. What really threw him was that his brain turned Travis on, that was a surprise considering the type of woman he normally pursued. But it would also explain that glazed look Travis often got when he went off on one of his intellectual tangents. It wasn't disinterest after all. "Did you know that your vocabulary goes up a notch when you've been drinking?"

"Did you know your gorgeous eyes glow when you've been drinking?"

"Hah!" Wes had to wonder just what cactus this tequila had been distilled from because it was obvious Travis was hallucinating. He looked up and met Travis' equally radiant blue eyes. Something welled up inside him, something that begged to be let out. "T-Bone, my friend, can I, too make a confession?"

"Yeah baby, lay it on me."

Travis had gotten incredibly close suddenly. His face was barely inches from Wes' making it harder to think. "Well, see, I – I find you incredibly sexy, too. Crazy, isn't it?"

"No, not crazy, man. Fortuitous, really." Travis leaned back in his chair, nearly falling out sideways before righting himself. "I have another confession."

"Lay it on me, baby," Wes encouraged.

Travis beamed at Wes' use of his own words. "I want to take you to bed, right now. Ride you like I ride my motorcycle – long and hard until you're nearly overheated."

It was Wes' turn to lean forward across the table, bridging the gap between the two of them. "I thought you'd never ask."

Travis hadn't ever seen Wes quite as dressed down as he was tonight. He'd ditched the expensive suit and replaced it with a tight-fitting blue cotton tee adorned with a silver skull logo. Faded and worn blue jeans covered that perfect ass of his. He really needed to wear this kind of thing more often, like every damn day.

"You need to go casual more often, baby," he whispered, pulling Wes' t-shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor of his bedroom.

"And you should try dressing up more," Wes countered. "You'd look damn delicious in a suit. You're built perfectly, those broad shoulders would really enhance a nice Armani jacket."

"I think you need to shut up," Travis suggested.

He pressed his mouth to Wes' startling his partner into silence and urging him into action. Wes opened his mouth, letting Travis in, moaning at the taste of tequila and hot sauce on his tongue. Travis' hands found Wes' belt buckle and made quick work of it. He pushed the perfectly tailored jeans to the floor, urging the blonde to step out of them.

"Nice boxers," Travis commented, ogling, "do they always match your tie?"

"What?" Wes looked down and laughed. They were the exact same shade as the tie he'd been wearing earlier, but how did Travis know that? "Not intentionally, no, but I'm surprised you noticed."

"I always notice, baby, it goes hand in hand with checkin' your ass out every morning."

The words sent a lightning bolt of heat and desire straight to Wes' cock, hardening it, encouraging bad behavior. How had he not realized this before now? Wait, he knew how – he tried so hard to deny his feelings that he refused to notice Travis' mutual attraction. He'd been so, so stupid.

"You need to get naked, Travis, its lonely being the only one in his all-together." He tugged at the front of Travis' Henley, releasing it from the confines of his jeans. "I love this color on you," he admitted, picking at the stonewashed reddish purple cloth. Looks good against your dark skin, makes your eyes so bright."

"Do you think it'd look better on the floor, in a pile with yours?" Wes nodded. Travis pulled it over his head and tossed it into the pile he'd started earlier. "Yeah, it looks much better over there."

Travis took his partner's face in his hands, pulling him in close for another kiss. Pale skin rubbed against darker skin, heating their blood to a level on par with napalm. Their tongues sparred and danced, lips were bitten, bodies were enflamed.

"These have got to come off, now," Wes groaned, working at the buttons on Travis' jeans.

"Let me help you," Travis offered, popping open the buttons on his fly with practiced ease.

"Oh god, perfect," Wes grunted.

He dropped to his knees, looking up at his partner before tugging the dark denim down to his feet. "Travis, I want to touch you."

Travis looked down at Wes, his eyes wide and pleading. "You weren't kidding earlier when you said you'd never been with a man, were you?"

Wes shook his head. "No, it wasn't – wasn't ever an option, not for me. Can't be respectable if I'm sharing my bed with a man, or so I was always told."

"But you want this? You sure?" Travis feathered his fingers through Wes' blonde hair, caressing his scalp, praying he still said yes.

Wes nodded, swallowing hard. "More than you know."

Travis took Wes' hand in his and brought it to his bulging cock. "Then touch me, baby. Touch me all you want."

He rubbed his palm along the trapped length of Travis' erection, savoring the newness of him. Wes could feel his own dick hardening even more, throbbing with unfulfilled need. His fingers found the waistband of Travis' Jockey shorts, the navy fabric doing nothing to conceal his excitement. With a deep breath, he pulled, exposing the one part of his partner's body he'd never seen. Long, thick and dark, Travis' cock bobbed in Wes' face, enticing him. The thatch of midnight hair tempting him.

Wes took Travis in both hands, stroking and exploring before opening his mouth and instinctively taking him in. Travis gasped, his breath catching in his throat.

"Shit Wes, no, stop." He pulled back, his wet cock cooling in the air between them.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry – I…" Panic crossed Wes' face, worry hot on its heels.

"Did you do something wrong? _Fuck no_. But I'm not going to last long if you do that again and I want something more satisfying for us both."

"You want sex." His voice held steady, Wes was both thrilled and terrified at the prospect of sex with Travis.

"Yeah, I do. Is that okay, what you want, too?"

Wes couldn't speak. God yes, it was what he wanted. It was what he'd been fantasizing about for years now, not ever thinking he could actually get it. Not from Travis anyway. "Yes," he breathed, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat. "Please, Travis."

"Get up," he teased, pulling Wes to his feet. "I can't have you on the floor, not yet."

Wes grinned, desire and tequila running in his veins. In a moment of boldness, he shucked his boxers, exposing what God gave him to the world. Or, at least, to Travis' scrutiny. "Where can you have me, if not on the floor?"

"In my bed, you nut, and the sooner the better." His eyes feasted on the nakedness of his partner. Long, lean muscles corded his legs and arms, strength hiding within his lanky frame. Wes' cock stood out proudly, defiantly, making Travis' mouth water with want.

Wes made his way across the small room to Travis' bed. He sat on the edge for a moment before letting the alcohol embolden his actions. Scooting into the middle of Travis' sheets, he laid back, sprawling. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, frightened. "Is this more acceptable?"

No answer came, not until he felt the bed dip under Travis' weight, felt his hot skin pressing against his own. "Much better, baby."

Travis trailed one hand up Wes' chest, from his waist to his collar bone, exploring the flat planes of his partner's well defined chest. A light sprinkling of white-blonde hair covered the pale skin, tickling his palm as it glided across. Wes' breath stuttered in his chest when Travis questing fingers reached his cock. He lightly brushed Wes' length, teasing and gauging his readiness. Travis' heart pounded knowing that neither of them were going to last long, but confident that it was going to be explosive while they did.

From the nightstand by his head, Travis retrieved his near empty tube of lube. "Are you sure you want this," he whispered against Wes' ear.

"Yes," he begged, "I've never been surer in my life."

Travis kissed him, hard, lips bruising lips. Breaking away, he opened the tube, spreading lube on his fingers, testing Wes' resistance. "Let me know if I hurt you, baby."

"Just please, do this for me," Wes pleaded. "I'm so damn horny, it's been so long…" He bit his lip to stop the flow of embarrassing words.

Travis studied Wes' face, uncertain for a moment. Wes dated on occasion, but never more than one or two dates with the same woman before moving on, never getting attached. Casual sex was not something he did. "I'll fix that problem for you, baby," he promised.

He pushed a finger into Wes', watching the blonde squirm. Blondie was so damn tight, tight enough to make a man want to cry with desperation. Wes pushed against Travis' invading finger, frantic for more, so he obliged. Working his finger inside Wes, he eased a second in with the first.

"Travis, you're making me crazy, please…"

Wes was coming undone, begging for what Travis had long wanted to give him. He removed his fingers, heart rending with Wes' despairing cry at the loss. "Easy, baby, give me one second and you'll be better, I promise."

He found the discarded tube of lube again and coated his aching cock with the slippery substance. Positioning himself against Wes' opening, he took hold of a leg, just beneath the knee, and lifted. Settling Wes' leg over his shoulder, he lifted his soon-to-be lover's hips, pushing into him, slow and steady. Travis gasped as Wes' body gripped him, hungry for what he was offering.

Wes' eyes squeezed shut, his back arching into Travis' body. Travis tried to move slowly, to go easy on Wes, knowing he'd never done this before, but his goodwill lasted all of three or four thrusts before he lost control.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I just can't…" Travis apologized.

"Don't," Wes grunted, "harder."

"Harder, I can do," Travis agreed, letting go and pounding his cock into Wes' tight ass, two, three, four times.

Wes' fingers gripped the sheets, pulling and fisting the cotton, hips lifting to meet Travis' eagerly. Travis ceased to hold back, making the bed rock in rhythm to their lovemaking. Sober, Wes would have been mortified to hear the sounds coming out of his mouth currently, but as drunk as he was, he didn't care. When he saw the effect his vocalizations were having on Travis, he gave in to the building desire to scream, coming hard. "Travis," he howled, "more!"

"Fuck yeah," Travis grunted, hips slapping against Wes' rounded backside. The first spurts of Wes' hot spunk against his chest triggered Travis' own orgasm, filling Wes with his need.

Travis collapsed against Wes' chest, breath coming rapidly. "God damn, that was good."

"The best," Wes confirmed, not willing to analyze the budding realization that it was _the best ever_, even better than he'd ever had with any woman before. "So damn good, Travis."

"Yeah baby, you are the best."

Travis sighed, resting his head on one muscular pectoral, before falling into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep, Wes following close behind.

Wes stretched muscles aching and stiff. He looked around, not understanding at first why he wasn't in his hotel room. Comprehension dawned slowly, the remnants of the night's tequila still clouding his brain. Travis' head was tucked in against his shoulder, his partner snoring softly.

Bits and pieces of the night before started flooding his brain. Pizza, tequila, two naked bodies twining together.

"Oh god no," he breathed, praying his memory was screwing with him.

And then he moved, a deeper ache than the ones in his muscles confirming what he'd feared.

He'd fucked his partner. And he'd _liked_ it.

Panic rose in Wes' chest, threatening to overtake him. He'd tried for three years to keep his attraction to himself. Travis was too much of a player to ever settle down and Wes cared too much to have a one night stand, especially with someone like Travis, someone he was so close to. He had to get out of here before Travis woke and hopefully no one but Wes would even remember what had happened.

Slipping carefully from under Travis' restraining arm, Wes gathered his clothes from a pile on the side of the room. He dressed as quietly as he could, desperate to get out before Travis woke. He had no idea how he was even going to face his partner on Monday morning, hell, he wasn't even sure how he was going to face himself later, but he'd figure that out when the time came.

After all, he'd kept his feelings from his partner all this time, he could keep this secret as well. He had no other choice, really. Denial was his friend and it started now.

No telling Travis about last night. Certainly no telling Travis that his long simmering affection had turned to desire.

Definitely not telling Travis that he might be falling for his obnoxious ass. Absolutely no admitting that to himself.

Yeah, just call him Cleopatra – Queen of Denial.

Travis rolled over in bed, reaching for the warm body he expected to find beside him. But the bed was empty. He pushed to a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain that followed.

Just a dream. His heart sank at the realization that Wes hadn't spent the night with him after all. A sick feeling settled in his stomach, guilt and want and despair colliding. But it had felt so real, he swore he could even smell Wes' cologne on his sheets.

"Wishful thinking," he chided himself, sadly. Sex with Wes was a pipe dream. He was entirely too uptight for a fling, especially a fling with another man. He'd made that abundantly clear the day before. And yet, Travis still wanted one chance to change his partner's mind. Show him that sex – and heaven help him, a real relationship – was possible with another man. With this man.

Travis lowered himself back onto his pillow, squeezing his eyes closed against the recognition that for the first time in his life, he might be falling in love, as ridiculous as it was. With his damn annoying, holier than thou partner. A relationship that wouldn't ever work, not in a lifetime of tries, not with Wes. He had no desire to be in any kind of relationship with a man that was obvious. Hell, Travis wasn't even sure Wes wanted a relationship with anything female either.

That bit of information didn't keep him from hoping, or from wanting. It sure as hell didn't keep him from hurting as he laid there in bed, alone.


	2. Chapter 2

_Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.__ - __Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

Six weeks - April

Wes looked at himself in the mirror and cringed. He was paler than normal and dark circles had taken up residence under his eyes. It was becoming harder and harder to keep food down and most meals wound up in the toilet before he got halfway through them.

At first, he figured the lethargy was a holdover from the massive hangover, but when it only increased as the days went on, he began to worry. Seventeen days after his ill advised tryst with Travis, the puking began. He'd been tempted to visit the doctor when a snippet of a conversation he'd had with Travis flashed back to him. It suddenly all made sense.

Wes Mitchell was fucking _pregnant_.

And Travis Goddamn Marks was the baby daddy.

Wes pulled himself together and made it to work on time. Barely. It aggravated him that he wasn't his usual thirty minutes early, but he let himself off the hook for once. He'd had a rough morning, one that consisted of a glass of orange juice, half a banana and three trips to throw it all back up. Needless to say, he was exhausted and cranky. And starving.

Travis slid into his chair across from Wes, grinning. Wes knew that smile all too well. It was one his partner wore often, usually the morning after a successful conquest. Normally, that smile grated on Wes' nerves, annoyed him to no end simply due to the bravado behind it. Today, it inspired unsolicited rage in him. Anger so strong that he was ashamed at the power of it.

"So, have a good weekend, baby?" Travis leaned on folded arms, leering at Wes on the other side. "Because, if not? I had enough fun for both of us. Hoo boy!"

The rage within Wes reached a pinnacle and threatened to overflow and explode out of him in one large burst of fury. He stood abruptly, slapping a hand over his mouth and ran out of the department's main room.

Wes only barely made the men's room before the bile rose and he vomited for what seemed like the fiftieth time that morning. Tears rose unbidden and he let them fall, unable to control his emotions any better than he could his rebellious stomach.

He'd been a fool to think Travis would have remembered what had transpired between them six weeks prior. He was an even bigger rube to think Travis would have cared, even if he had remembered. It tore at his shattered heart every time Travis called him 'baby' so casually. Each utterance of the word brought back sweat-slicked memories of a night drenched in tequila, followed by a knife to the gut.

And here he was, carrying the bastard's child because he'd been too arrogant to acknowledge his feelings for Travis, thus convincing himself he had no need for the new male birth control patch. If he hadn't been so deep in denial, maybe he wouldn't be so utterly fucked at the moment.

In his defense, he didn't have a clue that Travis was bisexual. He thought he'd have to watch from the sidelines as his partner made his way through every female in the department, always the wingman and never the date.

Travis' confession rang in his memory. _I find you incredibly sexy..._

"Wes?" Travis' voice echoed in the empty restroom. "You in here, man?"

Wes took a deep breath. He had to keep this quiet, Travis could not know he was pregnant, not yet. And he positively could not ever know the baby was his. "Yeah," he called weakly from the last stall on the left. He wiped away the last of the tears, flushed, and faced the father of his child.

"You okay because you look rough, baby."

Wes winced, his heart breaking a little more. "Must've been something I ate. And please stop calling me baby. You know how much I hate that."

"Sure, man. Sorry. Why don't you knock off for today and get some rest? I can handle the legwork for one day."

He was tempted. The morning sickness had been a bitch all weekend, leaving him weak, but being near Travis was the only thing holding him together. Even as hurt as he was, working by his lover's side gave him the illusion they were a real couple. His stomach heaved, sending him running again.

"I take that to mean yes?"

The sound of Wes trying to dump his lungs into the toilet was his only answer.

Several hours later, he was awoken by a pounding at his hotel door. He was halfway to answering it when he heard his partner's voice.

"You still alive in there, Blondie? I brought food."

Wes' stomach rolled in protest at the mere mention of food but he let Travis in anyway.

"Hey, you look better," he noticed. "Got a little color back."

Wes was afraid to admit the color was likely left over from the rather explicit dream he'd been having about his partner when he'd been awakened. Changing the subject, he asked, "What did you bring? It smells good." For the first time in days, his stomach growled instead of rumbled.

"Sandwich for me, some chicken noodle soup for you. Here," he said, setting the food on the dining table, "come eat."

Wes complied, sitting and carefully sipping the broth. When his stomach didn't immediately revolt, he tried a chunk of carrot. "Thank you, Travis, I haven't eaten in days. But you didn't have to do this."

He sat down at the table across from Wes and frowned. "Of course I did. You're my partner and I was worried about you. You never get sick."

That much was true, even if he wasn't sick now. Instead of protesting, he kept his mouth shut and ate, listening to Travis detail the results of the day's interviews. The case was moving forward and that was a good thing. Travis had made decent progress and that was even better.

He watched Travis finish the last bits of his sandwich through fluttering eyelids, dozing as he sat. It brought a sad smile to Travis' face, one he barely noticed in his exhaustion.

Travis stood, taking Wes' arm gently. "Come on, time for bed, Wes. You need your beauty sleep."

Wes allowed Travis to help him back to his room. He didn't even protest when his partner tucked him in and kissed his forehead, a waft of his cologne settling in his nose. When Travis wished him 'sweet dreams, baby', he found it didn't hurt nearly as much when he was being so sweet.

Travis let himself out after assessing that Wes was well and truly asleep.

Wes drifted off thinking that Travis would be a fabulous daddy when the time came.

Travis sat on the foot of his bed, thinking about Wes. He'd been sick an awful lot lately and he was losing weight. It worried Travis to the point of thinking the blonde needed an intervention. Crabby, Travis was used to. But tired and crabby and puking? That was something new.

Kicking his shoes off, he lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and remembering the smell of Wes' body as he tucked him into bed an hour ago. The sight of his pale neck rose in his mind, that length of pure, unmarked skin tempting him. He wanted to get his teeth into it, nip at it, leave only the slightest marking proving Wes was his.

He was only partly ashamed to discover that he was aroused by this image, these thoughts of biting his partner's flawless skin. His cock hardened, pressing against the front of his jeans, eliciting a groan out of Travis. If only the dreams would stop, maybe every glimpse of Wes wouldn't leave him weak and wanting. He wasn't so lucky, however. They seemed to return to taunt him at least twice a week, getting more graphic and intense as the weeks wore on.

And it was killing him.

Dr. Ryan had informed them that it was natural to dream about your partner, more so in a case like theirs where they were constantly putting themselves in danger for the case. The mind's reaction to stressful or worrisome situations manifest in many ways, she'd assured them. Travis was worried that stress was not what was manifesting in these overtly sexual dreams involving him and Wes and a bottle of _Cabo Wabo_.

Another groan escaped him as the visual of his body entangled with his partner's flashed through his mind for the thirteenth time that afternoon. He rubbed his hand along the length of his agonizing erection, attempting to soothe it somewhat without success.

"Wessss," he hissed, "you're going to kill me, baby."

Travis gave up fighting the urge. The sound of his zipper coming down filled the room. Taking his engorged dick into his hand, he stroked himself slowly, his teeth burying themselves in his bottom lip. Wes' blue eyes filled his mind's eye. His imagination trailed from those clear orbs to his full mouth, catching just a glimpse of that sexy-as-hell dimple. He bucked into his own hand, mentally disrobing Wes article by article until he stood in nothing but a pair of emerald green boxers, cock hard and ready, begging for attention.

In his fantasy, Travis gave Wes' cock all the attention it deserved. Stroking him first, then pulling him into his mouth, sucking, nibbling on the head. His hands roamed and caressed his lover, touching him and fondling him, and finally squeezing his taut ass cheeks between them. Wes' hips rocked forward, Travis taking him deeper, loving the taste and feel of his partner in his mouth. Travis knew instinctively that Wes was close. He kneaded Wes' ass with strong fingers, pulling him close, holding him while he pumped his cock between Travis' lips.

The sound of Wes coming undone in his dreams pushed Travis' hot button hard. He came on the heels of his imaginary lover, grunting and grinding against his palm. Relief flooded him, releasing laughter bordering on the hysterical.

"How sad am I," he said into the empty room, sighing. "I have a dozen gorgeous women on speed dial and yet, here I am, jacking off to a fantasy revolving around my partner. My _sick_ partner, at that."

His relief turned to sadness, his laughter to tears.

"Today we're going to be discussing secrets and how they affect our relationships. Now, we're not talking about the little secrets, we all have those and they're healthy. Our partners don't always need to know every little detail of our lives or our pasts. Having those little things that are our own solely can be a good thing. It's when you begin to hide the larger things, the things that actually affect the stability of your relationship that you have a problem."

"Like that ex-girlfriend that found you on Facebook," Rozelle added helpfully, side-eyeing her husband as she did so. Clyde slunk down in his chair a little farther.

"Or that the ex-wife is suddenly demanding more child support," Mrs. Dumont added even more supportively.

"Yes," Dr. Ryan agreed while trying not to laugh, "those are both very good examples. And while the ex-girlfriend might not mean any harm and the ex-wife may have suddenly hit a rough patch financially, these are both things that should be addressed openly."

"Told you," Rozelle elbowed Clyde in the arm.

"Yes, honey, you did, and I said I was sorry," he defended.

"Looks like you need to keep saying it," Wes added.

Dr. Ryan ignored his jab for the moment and looked at Dakota and Peter. "What kind of secrets have you discovered between the two of you? You don't have to be specific either, we're not here to air the other's dirty laundry, only to gain an idea of how keeping things from your loved ones strains your interactions."

Dakota grinned and squeezed her husband's hand. "We don't have secrets, we tell each other everything, don't we?"

Peter's brown eyes widened in fear for a moment before settling back to normal. He clasped his free hand over the top of Dakota's giving a nervous squeeze. "No, we sure don't, do we?"

Travis looked at Wes and rolled his eyes. Wes gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

"Boys," Dr. Ryan's voice drew their attention back to where it was supposed to be. "All that silent communication between you suggests you don't believe Dakota and Peter. Care to explain?"

"Oh no, Dr. Ryan, it's not that at all," Travis began with a look to Wes. At the other's nod, Travis continued. "We believe Dakota has no problem telling poor Peter every detail of her life… in detail."

"It's Peter that has the secrets," Wes added.

"I… but I…" Peter stammered.

"Oh, they're probably not anything big – maybe he stopped for a burger because he knew she was making some god-awful recipe of her mother's for dinner – but they're there."

Dr. Ryan frowned at Wes for a moment before Travis drew her focus again.

"Right, Peter man, you need to learn to lie better, your eyes were everywhere but on your wife when you agreed with her. Classic sign of a fibber."

"And you fidget," Wes agreed.

"Peter," Dakota asked, alarmed, "is this true?"

"Okay," he caved, launching to his feet. "They're right, I'm lying. I did stop and have a burger the other night…"

Dakota's face scrunched up and then realization hit her. "Wednesday. You stopped on Wednesday, didn't you?"

"Yes!" He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. "I'm sorry honey, I just can't stand that tofu stir fry you make. I know you mean well but…"

"But it's awful," she replied.

"Yes, it is and…"

"And I hate it too. I only kept making it because you said you liked it." Relief washed over the young couple as they hugged out their breakthrough.

"And you tell me that I need to be more polite," Wes asked Travis. "This is where polite gets you – it leaves you stuck eating food you hate and wearing a funny sweater at Christmas."

"You are such a stick in the mud," Travis told him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But it's why I love you sooooo much."

"You are such a jerk," Wes retorted, heart leaping at the words Travis said, even in jest.

"Boys," Dr. Ryan said again, bringing everyone's attention back to the center. "What about you. Do either of you keep secrets from the other? On the job, that is. Since you're not an actual couple, as you both keep reminding us all, your private life doesn't count in this instance."

The words stung as she said them, although Wes knew he deserved to hear them from her. Dr. Ryan was right, they protested vehemently any time anyone suggested they were an actual couple. "Nope," Wes admitted, shaking his head, "no professional secrets between the two of us…" It wasn't' actually a lie because the real secret he was keeping was purely personal.

Travis studied Wes for a moment before agreeing. "Right. We're together ten or twelve hours a day, it's really hard to keep anything quiet. We're good. Can we go now?"

"No you may not," she scolded. "We still have work to do. Our first exercise today is…"

Wes tuned her out as he watched Dakota and Peter stand and hug again. They were probably the most annoying couple in the group if only because they were so young and new in their love. They hadn't been together long enough to have experienced betrayal and hurt like he had with Alex. Or more recently with Travis, although that wasn't being very fair to Travis. Their relationship was still rather pristine and it made his soul ache for them. He was relatively certain that they'd make it for the long haul, they were too in tune with each other for it to end any other way. Anything could happen though, and things that happened out of the blue are the ones that tested your relationship the most.

He knew that one far too well these days.

Travis had his hands on Rozelle's shoulders, teasing her about something while Clyde watched, half suspicious, half amused. Wes chuckled to himself and thought he ought to go save Clyde from having to punch his partner with so many witnesses present. He pushed himself to his feet and immediately regretted it. The room swam around him and he felt faint. A set of strong arms steadied him, the scent of that familiar cologne suggesting it was Travis who held him.

"Easy there, cowboy, you're still not one hundred percent, remember? Sit back down and I'll go get you some water." Travis bolted from the room and went in search of a vending machine.

"Everything okay, Wes?" Dr. Ryan had her concerned voice on.

"Yes, I'm fine," he reassured her. "Had something that didn't agree with me over the weekend."

She studied him for a brief time before nodding. "Food poisoning can take a bit to get out of your system sometimes. Remember to keep hydrated."

"I keep telling him that, Dr. Ryan, but he won't listen to me," Travis announced, returning with a sweating bottle of cold water. "Drink up," he insisted.

Wes obliged. He sipped slowly from the bottle, knowing from experience that even too much water too fast would send him barreling for the boy's room. Slowly, he started to feel better and the room slowed to its normal pace. "Thank you, Travis. For both the water and the steadying hand."

Travis shrugged, "Hey, it's what partners are for, right?" He tossed a wink at Wes and went off to join in the group activity the others were playing.

He didn't notice Dr. Ryan continuing to watch him.

"That was a rough session, wasn't it?" Travis slowed his usual pace to match Wes'. "All those accusations and nasty glares. Brrr…" He gave a mock shiver for emphasis.

Wes let a half smile adorn his lips. "Mr. and Mrs. Dumont were the worst, I think. They've been married too long and know each other too well. He should have known b better."

"I know it, man. This is why you don't get serious, am I right?"

Travis was shaking his head, laughing at the absurdity of _getting serious_ with someone and missed the pained look that crossed Wes' face. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, wanting to do anything but.

"Oh, hey, how about we grab a bite to eat before heading home? I was thinking that maybe you aren't getting enough protein in addition to being dehydrated. Low iron levels can cause dizziness. Jonelle told me that."

"And you remembered, how sweet. Thanks, but I'm going to have to pass, maybe tomorrow."

"Aw, come on, man. I know you're not getting enough to eat. Look at you – you're getting scrawny."

"I'm not scrawny," he protested, "I'm lean. There's a difference."

"Uh-huh, if you say so. I still think you need a sammich. Come on, humor me for once. I found a new place that I think you'll like – and your tummy shouldn't protest too much either."

"God, I hope not," he admitted. "I'm sick of being sick."

"Good, you can drive."

They piled into Wes' car and made their way to the place Travis had stumbled across. While Wes wasn't certain that Chinese was the best thing for his stomach, Travis assured him that if he ordered wisely, he'd be okay.

For once, Travis had been right. Garlic noodles and tofu had been what he'd decided on, despite Travis' protesting. "Man, I can't eat tofu!"

"I thought this was my meal?"

"Well, it is, but you always share your Chinese, don't you know anything?" He tsked playfully at the thought of eating only his own food.

Apparently, he didn't know anything at all. He and Alex had rarely eaten Chinese food and, when they did, they certainly didn't share. After watching Travis order, he could see the sense in it. A pile of your food, a pile of their food and you both got one heck of a meal.

"I guess I don't. I do know, however, that unlike Peter and Dakota, that I like tofu. It's good for you and it's loaded with protein. And, if it's cooked right, it's very tasty."

"We'll have to see about that," Travis warned.

As it turned out, Travis did like properly cooked tofu and Wes' garlic noodles, too. He plowed through most of his Mongolian beef plus at least half of Wes' food. Currently, he was nibbling on a fortune cookie and grinning.

"What's so funny?"

"My fortune. Listen to this: You only need look to your own reflection for inspiration because you are beautiful! How right they are."

"You are an idiot. A vain, vain idiot." But Wes couldn't deny the truth of it. More and more he'd been thinking about the baby and what he – or she – might look like, hoping he had Travis' misty blue eyes and tranquil temperament.

"Nah, you're just jealous. Open yours. And how's your stomach? Holding on so far?"

Wes looked up from unwrapping the cookie and nodded. "So far, so good." He broke open the cookie and pulled out the little slip of paper. He read it, blinked and read it again.

"Okay, that face of yours is telling me this one's a good one. Spill."

"It's nothing Travis, I…" His eyes flicked back to the incriminating slip of paper.

"Oh for the love of tofu, give it to me!" Travis reached out and snatched the fortune out of Wes' fingers before he could react. "Hah. I love it. 'Instead of worrying and agonizing, move ahead constructively.' They obviously don't know you very well, do they?" Travis stood and held out his hand. "I think it's time to get out of here."

Wes nodded, secreting away the little fortune before Travis could see. "Agreed, I'm exhausted." He took his partner's hand, allowing him to help him to his feet. They walked in silence to Wes' car and then rode in more silence back to where Travis had left his motorcycle.

"Thanks again for dinner, Travis. I needed that."

"We both did. See you in the morning, and hopefully no more puking on your part. It was a bit gross, just so ya know."

As if he needed reminding. "Sorry about that, I promise to do better tomorrow."

"See that you do." He slung one long leg across the seat of his bike and settled the helmet on his head. With a last wave and the roar of his engine, he left Wes standing in the parking lot, alone with his thoughts.

Wes watched as he drove away, wondering if their child would be reckless and daring like Travis or boring and steadfast like himself. He took comfort in the thought that he might be both. Adventurous tempered with logic and common sense. It was the best he could hope for, he supposed.

With a sigh, he unlocked the car doors and reached for the handle when the baby decided that he, on second thought, did not like Chinese after all, and sent Wes running for the nearest trash receptacle. While he hurled up every last bit of his dinner, he prayed to whatever god was listening that this ended soon. He had thirty-four more weeks to go and if his body insisted on puking eighteen times a day for the next eight months, he was going to commit hari-kari, baby or not.

Women truly were the stronger sex if they managed to bear child after child despite all the horrors he was currently experiencing. He made a mental note to surf the internet for any information he could find on this whole mess, hoping that something might help save his hide before he went completely crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

_"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."__—__Dr. Seuss_

Seventeen weeks – July

"Wes, you've been awfully quiet today, is there something wrong?" Dr. Ryan peered at him in that unnerving way she had, the one that made you think she could see right through to your soul.

"It's this case," he confessed, "it has been keeping me up at night."

Dr. Ryan frowned. "Do you want to talk about it after the session?"

"Naw, man, this is a good thing," Travis interjected. "When he's so focused that he starts to obsess instead of sleep, we're on the right track and will be cracking the case soon."

She looked at Wes who nodded. "It's one of the hazards of the job, I guess. I'll be fine in a few days."

"If you're sure…" she trailed off. "Just remember that, if anything changes, I'm here to help you."

"It's funny," Dakota said quietly, "I was just thinking how much better you were looking."

Wes blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Just that you seem to have gained some color back. You've been rather pale the last few weeks."

Rozelle agreed. "She's right, you have quite a glow about you lately."

Wes' heart sank. A glow? Isn't that what they always said about pregnant women? That they glowed? Oh, he was in trouble. He'd finally come to the conclusion that he was going to have to tell Travis soon because the doctor informed him that he wasn't going to be able to hide his condition much longer. This was not how he had planned to break the news.

"You've put on some weight, too," Mrs. Dumont added. "It looks good on you. You'd gotten too thin there for a bit."

The women knew, he was certain. How they'd guessed, he didn't know, but they were females and heaven only knew that women's intuition was nothing to be toyed with. Panic bubbled in his gut and worked its way upward, a trail of nausea hot on its heels. "Oh god," he groaned, bolting to his feet and rushing out of the room.

"Wes?" Travis stood and made to follow him.

"Travis, wait."

"I can't, Dr. Ryan, he needs me." He moved to follow his partner again.

"Travis, give him a few moments. If I know Wes, he would not appreciate you intruding just yet."

He looked at her, forlorn. "I guess you have a point there."

"Sit," she instructed and he shook his head.

"I can't." He paced, instead.

"Travis," Rozelle said, "is Wes in a relationship right now?"

"Wes? Oh hell no, he might never be in a relationship ever again. Why?"

She looked from Dakota to Mrs. Dumont, giving Dr. Ryan a cursory glance. "Why? Isn't it obvious?"

"It's obvious that you women are nuts, what am I missing that's so evident to you?"

Rozelle glanced at Mrs. Dumont again who nodded. "Your partner is expecting."

"Expecting what?" Travis' expression was confused and a bit frightened.

"Wes is pregnant, you jerk." Dakota, of course.

"What? No way. Nuh-uh. He doesn't even like men. You are all smoking crack." He finally sat, crossing one leg angrily over the other, fingers tapping on his knee.

"The signs are all there," Mrs. Dumont insisted. "He's been pale and tired. Nauseous, cranky, and he had that dizzy spell a few weeks back."

"Insomnia is also common during pregnancy," Dr. Ryan added quietly.

"No," Travis insisted, "you all are crazy. There's no way, not Wes."

"'Not Wes' what," a soft voice asked.

Travis whirled, relief at seeing his partner returning evident on his face. "These women," he waved vaguely at the group, "have this insane idea that you're like pregnant or something." When Wes didn't say anything, Travis approached him. "Tell them, Wes. Tell them they're crazy."

Wes sighed, looking from one face to the next. He could see the confusion and expectation on the countenances of the men, and the joy and excitement on the women. "They're not crazy, Travis, they're right. This is not how I wanted you to find out but…"

The rest of Wes' statement was drowned out by a combination of Dakota's squealing and Travis' ire.

"They're what," he raged, getting in Wes' face. "They're right and you didn't bother to tell me this until now? How could you keep this from me?"

Wes looked at Dr. Ryan for support, but none was forthcoming. Hadn't they just talked about this a few weeks ago? Keeping secrets from your partner? "Travis, it's complicated, to say the least."

"Complicated my ass," he spat. "You told me that, under no circumstances would you ever want to have 'sexual relations' with another man. Ever. And here you are, pregnant and lying about it like you were sixteen. What the actual fuck, Wes?"

Guilt squeezed at Wes' heart. Travis was right to a point, but he also didn't know the whole truth. If he was this angry now, how ticked would he be when – no, that wasn't going to happen. He wasn't ever going to know that. "Travis, it was a mistake. It was one night and it meant nothing. Not to me and certainly not to him."

"Oh no, I'm not buying that. You do not do one night stands, Wes Mitchell."

"Not usually," he agreed, "but this was different. I thought he liked me and I was wrong. It meant nothing, trust me. And if you were to ask him about it, I doubt he'd even remember my name or that we'd spent the night together."

That harsh truth stuck in Wes' throat, threatening to suffocate him with its accuracy. The tears were building again and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to keep them in check. He'd hoped the emotional sensitivity would fade with the morning sickness, but it seemed to have stuck around for the long haul. Trying to hold onto his composure, he looked around the group again. Rozelle and Dakota were possibly planning a baby shower. Mr. Dumont was rubbing his temples as his wife joined in. Clyde and Peter looked at each other, helpless. Only Dr. Ryan was focused on the couple falling apart in the middle of the gym.

"Wes, I'm talking to you," Travis growled.

"I'm sorry, Travis. What did you say?" He wondered if a wandering mind was a common side effect of his condition because it was happening a lot lately.

"I asked you who the bastard was so I can go arrest him and throw his worthless ass down a flight of stairs."

"Don't," Wes begged, "please just drop it, it's not important."

"Not important? Not _important_?" Travis was livid. "This asshole knocked you up and turned you loose and you think that's not important?"

"I can do this without him," he said, although he knew he couldn't. "I have to." Wes turned to Dr. Ryan. "I need to go, I can't – can't do this right now." She nodded in assent.

"Wait," Travis choked out, grabbing hold of Wes' arm. "You don't have to do this alone. You have me."

"And all of us, Wes," Dakota added, quiet for a change.

"She's right, Wes," Dr. Ryan added. "We are a support group for a reason."

He looked at his shoes, nodding his appreciation. "I'll keep that in mind," he promised.

"You'd better, Rozelle threatened.

Travis still held his arm. "Can you let me go, please?"

"On one condition." Wes cocked his head, listening. "You promise to let me help you through this."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It was both what he wanted and what he feared the most, those words. "I promise to try, Travis, it's all I can offer."

His dark fingers slid free of the suit sleeve they clutched. "It's all I can ask, considering this is you we're talking about. Call me later, please?"

Wes nodded, "I will."

"Oh, and a question?" Wes stopped and looked at his partner expectantly. "Uhh, not to be rude or anything, but how the hell do they get the baby out when the time comes?"

"With a knife, Travis," he replied, reveling in the look of abject horror on his cohort's face. "With a very sharp knife."

Travis started when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It had caught him off guard, he'd been focused on Wes and why he hadn't called yet. Bringing it before his face, he saw Wes' name and a quick text.

_I'm home and I'm alive. I know you expected a call but I just can't talk about this right now. Can you forgive me?_

His heart sank into his gut. He had expected a phone call, he'd needed one really, to hear Wes' voice, to be able to reassure him that it'd all be okay… and then he was denied. Wes had the right to not call, he knew, and he was thankful that he even texted.

_It's okay, baby. But we will talk eventually, right?_

It was a minute before Wes responded. When he did, it was all Travis could do not to laugh. _Of course we will. And now you really have to stop calling me 'baby' since I'm apparently having one. _

The smile on his face could have lit up the room it was so bright. _So, does that mean my baby's having a baby? My baby and me?_

He could almost hear Wes' amusement in his reply. _No, it absolutely does not because that would insinuate that I was your baby. And that's just silly, isn't it?_

No, it wasn't nearly as silly as he thought it was. Wes had been his baby since approximately three weeks after they'd met. At first, he had written it off to casual lust towards an attractive man, but the longer they were together, the more it had intensified, became real, turned into more. Their cataclysmic 'break up' nearly a year ago had almost done him in. As stupid as the couple's counseling was sometimes, it really had helped the two of them find each other again.

_Not nearly as silly as it sounds. Night, blondie, sweet dreams. _

_Night, Travis. _

He put his phone on the coffee table and scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands. He didn't know what he should do. It'd be so easy to just let it slip, to awkwardly tell Wes how he was feeling – the sadness, the jealousy, the excitement – to confess his swirling emotions in one deluge of words. He couldn't do that, not just yet, Wes was still much too upset to push right now. And Travis had too many questions, to boot.

Would Wes let him play Uncle Travis? Or would he be relegated to 'just a friend from work'? How would their working partnership change once the baby arrived? Or even before, once Wes started showing. The most frightening question was the most obvious – would Wes even want to continue on as a detective after the baby arrived? It'd be a thousand times safer and more profitable to return to the law firm he'd left. Alex always was harping on the fact that they wanted him back, that they'd give him whatever he wanted if Wes would only say yes. It'd make sense for him to do just that, too. Then he and Alex could once again be the happy family they'd always strived to be. Mommy, Daddy, and baby makes three.

A sob wrenched its way out of Travis' chest, ripping him right where it hurt most.

"Will you hold your horses, I can only move so fast these days," Wes hollered at the door. Someone had started pounding while he was in the shower and hadn't stopped. Flinging it open, he found Travis, red-eyed and distraught on his doorstep. "You have got to stop pounding on my door like that. This is an expensive hotel, not some low-rent neighborhood. I'll get tossed out on my ear if someone complains again. Now get inside before I start yelling at you."

"Damn, I'm sorry," he apologized, true concern in his voice. "I – I wasn't thinking."

"That much is obvious. Why are you here? I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to talk about this tonight."

"I know, I know," Travis said, pacing the floor in front of Wes' bare feet. "I just started thinking about things – about you, about me, about…" his voice trailed off as he looked at Wes' midsection.

"About this?" Wes placed a hand over his lower abdomen protectively.

"Yeah, especially about that." Travis stepped forward and gently covered Wes' hand with his own. "I'm worried, Wes."

Wes sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to discuss this tonight, prepared or not. "What has you so concerned?" Travis never worried about anything and that, in itself, was worrying for Wes.

"Well, first off, do I get to be Uncle Travis?"

"What?" Wes barked out a laugh, that was such a Travis-like concern. "I guess that depends on you. If you can be normal about this then sure, you are welcome to be Uncle Travis." Especially since he couldn't ever be daddy. "Next burden?"

"I don't want to become just 'someone from work', Wes. I need…"

He held a hand up. "You are too much a part of my life for that to ever happen. I spend more time with you than I ever did with Alex. If you ever do fall into that category, it'll be because you put yourself there, not me."

Travis nodded, blowing out a breath, turning his back to his partner. "Okay, yeah, all right."

"That's it? Only two? I'm actually rather disappointed, usually you can come up with…"

He turned, reaching out for the blonde, grasping his forearms tightly with his hands. "Wes, I'm scared to death you'll leave the force and go back to law and I'll never see you again." He pulled Wes close, pleading. "I can't let that happen, what would I do without you?"

Wes blinked, stunned at Travis' outburst. Everything he'd been contemplating had been laid out before him in one rush of words. "Travis, what are you trying to say?"

Travis pulled away, walking farther into the area that served as Wes' living room. A large hand rubbed at the knotted muscle at the base of his neck. He couldn't stand to see Travis so worked up, it was not in his wheelhouse to deal with things like this, but he had to try. He came up behind his partner, brushing his hand away and working at the knot with his tapered, supple fingers. "Relax and tell me what's going on."

"Ah, god, that feels good, Wes. Always knew I'd get your hands on me eventually," he joked.

He laughed, caught in the act. Rubbing a hand along Travis' broad back, he said, "Just don't get used to it, okay? I've got a reputation to protect."

"One that you've kinda already blown out of the water there, honey." He indicated Wes' belly with a nod of his head.

"Point. Now tell me what brought all this on. I'm supposed to be the hormonal one in this relationship."

That made Travis' face light up. "Yeah, you are, but today it's me, buddy. I've started to understand a few things lately, one of which is that I need you."

"I need you, too, we make a good team. You see things I don't, and I make connections that pass you by. It's why we're so successful."

Travis bit at his full, lower lip. "While that's all true, it's not exactly what I meant. I really need you, Wes. Like in my life, not just as my partner, but as my friend." He swallowed and looked away, afraid. "Maybe more."

Wes' words lodged in his throat. Had he really just said that? Travis Marks wanted more from their relationship. "Travis," he stammered, "I – you, you're not alone. Not in how you feel. I need you in all those ways, too."

Travis' head snapped up, disbelief written across his features. "Really, baby?" Wes nodded and Travis captured his face in his hands, crushing their mouths together, tasting and biting and devouring his partner at every turn. "God Wes," Travis teased a few minutes later, thigh rubbing against a delicious hardness in Wes' jeans, "am I really that amazing a kisser or are you honestly that horny?"

Wes moved back a step, getting his traitorous erection away from the vicinity of Travis' body. "Both, okay? I swear, it's the hormones, making me so… aroused… that's what all the books say, that it's normal to feel this way… a lot… but…"

"But what," he asked, voice soft, arms encircling him again, bringing him close.

"But I've been so lonely, too afraid to tell anyone the truth, afraid they'd reject me, dislike me more than they already do. Not that I had any prospects to begin with, but you know what I mean. If no one wanted me before, why would anyone want me now?"

"Because you're handsome and brilliant and wonderful," Travis reassured him. "Besides, I bet you'll rock that sexy baby bump once it appears."

"I'd reserve your judgment on that one until it happens." Wes wiped at the tears threatening to fall yet again, laughing at Travis' insistence that even when he was as big as a house he'd still be sexy. He really would make the perfect husband.

"Hah, we'll just see," he joked, kissing Wes tenderly before taking his hand in his own. "Now, about that other thing, show me your bedroom, blondie, we've got a problem we need to take care of."

He couldn't respond, this was what he'd been waiting for, hoping for since the moment Travis had made his drunken confession four months ago. Honest, sober, mutual sex between consenting partners – lovers.

"Are you going to show me or am I going to have to find my own way? The good news is, it's not like I can get lost in a hotel room, but still…"

He snapped out of it quickly. "Of course, I'm not letting this get past me, not tonight. C'mon, Travis, follow me."

"With pleasure, baby."

Travis had shed Wes' clothes slowly, taking in every inch of pale, muscular body as he did. He ran his fingers along the expanse of his partner's chest, trailing them along the line of golden hair covering his abdomen. He blinked, then ran his fingers back up towards Wes' chest.

"You're tickling me," Wes stated flatly.

"I am? Oh, sorry. It's that…" Travis made one more pass across Wes' stomach before turning him so that his back rested against Travis' chest. He began tracing the line of Wes' lower body, using both hands this time. "Baby, remember that bump we were talking about earlier?"

Wes tilted his head backwards, looking up at his lover, focused on the intensity he saw in his eyes. "How could I forget? You were reminding me that I will be an elephant in a few months."

Travis chuckled under his breath. "An elephant, never. Just maybe, I dunno, a panda or something."

"Because that's so much better, right? But your point? Or was this the reason you brought me here?"

Travis moved his head so that he could glare at Wes for a moment before looking back at his hands. "You've already got a bump going on, boy. It's little, but I can feel it."

He took Wes' hands in his and ran them lightly along the path his own had been traveling a moment before. "Do you feel that? Right there?"

Wes' eyes widened in shock, Travis was right. It wasn't much, but it was there. "I guess that would explain why I've had to loosen my belt," he laughed.

"Yeah, it would be, but I gotta admit, I love it."

Travis pressed his lips against Wes' face, kissing his temple, then his cheek. Wes pulled out of the circle of Travis' embrace and turned, putting his arms around his neck, pulling him in for a real kiss. "Thank you," he whispered, scared to say any more. All he wanted was one night with his baby and his man, nothing more. In the morning, he might feel differently, but for now, this would have to suffice. "Love me, Travis, please."

"That's why I'm here."

Travis took Wes by the hand and guided him to the bed. Grinning nervously, Wes situated himself in the middle of the bed, lying back and closing his eyes. A horrid sort of déjà vu overcame him, tonight was suddenly too similar to their first night alone like this. Forcibly, he pushed the image from his mind, swearing they were starting new, vowing he wouldn't ruin his one chance at being with Travis.

Travis delighted in every moment their bodies were entwined. The slide of his chest against Wes' was amazing, the taste of his mouth delightful, the reality that this man was now his lover euphoric. Each touch struck Travis as both blindingly new and yet achingly familiar. The disparity troubled him, but he forced all thoughts of anything but the here and now from his mind. He was running with his heart, leaving his perception in the dust.

Wes' back arched, his fingers digging into Travis' hips. He responded in kind, bucking harder, burying himself in Wes' body, savoring every sensation. His lover groaned, treating Travis to a spectacular rush of emotion as Wes came apart beneath him. Travis followed quickly, biting Wes' shoulder hard, to keep from calling out his partner's name. Wes hated it when he was loud, and by god, with the way he was feeling right now, he would far surpass even his own definition of the word.

Gasping for breath, heart racing with adrenaline, Travis collapsed on Wes' chest, cuddling his partner to him. "Give me a sec," he begged, "and I'll get off you, so you can clean up."

Wes wrapped his arms around Travis' waist, sighing. "No, don't move. Please don't ever move."

Travis obliged. Shifting to the side so he wasn't directly on top of Wes any longer, he hauled the blonde into his arms, snuggling him tight against his body. "If that's what you want, then that's what you'll get."

But Wes had already fallen asleep.

He smiled down at his partner turned lover, toying with a rebellious tuft of hair. Even though Wes had no idea, he'd been waiting for this moment for what seemed an eternity. Now that he had it, had experienced it, he never wanted to let go.

Wes would probably disagree, considering the circumstances. Circumstances that Travis still didn't understand completely. Had Wes lied when he told Travis he wasn't into men, or had it been a cover up for something he found shameful or inappropriate? Even more than that, Travis needed to find out who had done this to his partner and why they weren't stepping up and taking responsibility. Travis was caught somewhere between disbelief that this guy could walk away from someone as wonderful as Wes and suspicion that the blonde wasn't telling him the entire truth. If he thought Wes would even consider the option, he'd do it, become accountable for both Wes and his child, but he knew that wouldn't ever be allowed to happen. He knew his partner better than that.

And that killed him.

But not nearly as much as the idea that Wes was carrying someone else's child. Someone who wasn't him. A child that he hadn't fathered.

How unfair it all was. How stubborn he'd been thinking Wes would get the hint eventually. How he should have come clean years ago…

Travis stifled a sob, tightening his grip around Wes' waist, burying his face in the other's neck. His scent filled his senses, enveloping him, steadying him for a brief moment.

…how much his heart was breaking because he'd never mean as much to Wes as this other man would. How they couldn't ever be a real family because there'd always be the ghost of another standing between him and Wes and the baby.

…how much he hated himself for being such a fool.

…how much he loved Wes and couldn't begin to tell him.

…how much it hurt that he was going to lose his partner, because it was coming. Soon. And he had no power to stop it.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Because what's worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?" – James Patterson, The Angel Experiment_

Twenty-three weeks – August

"You need to tell him, Wes. It's not just your life that you're putting on the line anymore." Travis focused his gaze steadily on the blonde.

Wes glared at Travis, and only partly because he was right. He had been dreading this moment from the day he realized he was expecting. Being bound to a desk was not his idea of a dream job, it screamed 'worthless loser' as far as he was concerned. He needed to be out there, running down leads, interviewing witnesses, interrogating suspects. The usual detective stuff. Being useful, moving the case forward, being involved. Once he was put on leave, he'd be leashed to the office or worse. He could be sent home to wait out the birth. What would he do if that happened?

"I know, Trav, and we've talked about this…" He wished Travis would drop it, he'd been harping on this for days now and it was beginning to grate on Wes' nerves.

"We have and you keep being stubborn about it. Man up and go break the news to the cap. If you don't soon, he's going to figure it out on his own." The threat that even if their captain didn't figure it on his own, Travis would tell him, was implicit.

Travis made a not-so-subtle motion towards Wes' developing midsection. In the weeks since his and Travis' mutual confessions, they'd reached an easy compromise as far as their feelings went. Where Travis protected and hovered, Wes nurtured and rolled his eyes, each promising to have more patience with the other. This had lifted a ton of stress from Wes' already weary shoulders, boosting his appetite – both for food and for sex – and expanding his ever-growing belly.

"Don't I know it," Wes confessed, glaring at his traitorous body. "I'm honestly shocked he hasn't said something already. It's not like I'm all that inconspicuous these days."

Travis watched his partner run a hand over his rounded protuberance. A smile ghosted his face, one Wes almost missed seeing. Joy flooded him at the sight, wishing things could be different for them both. Truth just was not an option at the moment. Despair threatened to settle in if he thought on that for too long, so he pushed it away to examine later. Much later.

"We need to go tell him. Now." Travis stood, holding out a hand to Wes.

He waved him off. "I know, and I'm coming. Just give me a minute." He wedged himself out of his desk chair and stood, waddling behind his partner to their captain's office.

"Come in," Sutton called, not looking up from his desk.

"Cap?" Travis said. "Got a minute? We have something we need to tell you."

Sutton looked up from his papers, eyes trailing from his cluttered desk up to meet his two best detective's gazes. He stumbled across Wes' belly, eyes widening, nostrils flaring. It was a moment before the shock settled and he understood exactly what he was seeing. "It would seem that you two have been keeping a secret. Who's spilling first?"

The boys looked at each other, silently agreeing that this was Wes' issue and that he should be the one to take point explaining. Before Wes could get the words out, Travis spluttered excitedly, "We're having a baby!"

"Travis," Wes pouted, "I thought it was understood that I would tell him? And _we_ are not having a baby. I am. You're just… here." Travis frowned and Wes could tell the words had hurt. He made a mental note to apologize later, in whatever manner Travis deemed adequate, but for now, he pushed on. "I'm due sometime around the middle of December. The seventeenth if you want to split hairs."

"I see," Captain Sutton drawled, regrouping and trying to wrap his head around the situation. "And how did this happen?" His gaze landed on Travis, scrutinizing the more laid back of the pair.

"What? Oh, no, this has nothing to do with me," Travis protested. "I'm just his moral support."

There was that hurt face of his again, Wes noticed. He was going to have a lot of making up to do later. "He's right, Cap, this isn't his fault. I was… stupid… one night and am now paying for it."

Sutton smiled. "Sometimes our mistakes lead to the biggest blessings. Just try and remember that when things get rough."

Wes nodded. "I'll try, sir."

"You help him," Sutton ordered Travis.

"I'll do my best," he replied, some of the hurt replaced with pride in his ability to do just that.

"Okay then, you two, I don't like this, but I'm going to have to break up your little love nest temporarily. Mitchell, from now until you are released for duty, consider yourself benched."

Wes' face fell at the verdict. He'd known it was coming, but that didn't make him any happier hearing it. Sure, he'd still see Travis in the mornings and evenings when he filtered through the precinct, but he'd also be spending all day alone, without his smile, or his laugh or his simple presence by his side. "Understood, sir."

"Marks, you carry on as per usual. I'll get another detective to partner up with you for now. I think Hoffman's better half is out on temporary disability." He looked from one detective to the other, assuring himself that they understood there was to be no compromise on this.

"Yes, sir," he told their captain. Turning to Wes' sad face, he said, "Don't worry, buttercup, I won't like him as much as I like you. Besides, he's much too nice to ever be you."

Wes pressed his lips together in an effort to hold the building tears inside. The uncontrollable waves of emotion were the bane of his existence since getting knocked up and they could honestly stop any day now. He hated feeling like a pubescent girl, ready to open the floodgates at a moment's notice. "Keep flapping that mouth of yours, Marks, and see where that gets you."

Travis shut his mouth, jaw clacking together. Wes laughed, he couldn't help it. He hadn't meant anything by it, just the usual threatening banter they threw at one another regularly, but it occurred to him that Travis thought he intended to withhold sexual favors if he kept it up. "That's not what I meant, Travis."

Captain Sutton looked between the two detectives, watching their faces evolve. Travis' went from shock to confusion to indignant while Wes' remained amused. "Just whatever you two do, you do not ever – and I mean ever – tell me what the hell Mitchell was just implying. Now get outta here."

"Yes, sir," they chimed in unison, continuing to debate precisely what Wes had been inferring on their way out the door.

Twenty-six weeks – September

"Travis," Wes moaned.

"Yeah? Wes, you okay man?" Travis flicked a worried look at his partner.

"Travis, I'm starving. Can we stop for something soon?" His stomach growled in agreement.

"We'll be back to my place in a few, I thought we were going to order something when we got there." He gave his partner another worried glance.

"I'm going to eat the dashboard if we don't stop soon." Wes gave Travis a pitiful, pleading look.

Travis laughed. "Okay, baby, what do you want?"

Wes' food cravings had been keeping Travis on his toes, making mad dashes to the corner store in the middle of the night for salt and vinegar potato chips or a cream-filled donut, depending on the day. Wes knew he was being a pain, but he couldn't help it. Sometimes he wanted something so badly it was all he could think of. Embarrassed, he muttered something into his hand.

"What was that?" Travis had that knowing smirk on his face.

"A bacon cheeseburger," he confessed.

"Why Wesley Mitchell, I haven't ever known you to ever let anything so dreadfully unhealthy pass those beautiful lips of yours. I am shocked. Shocked. And a little aroused, to tell you the truth."

"Shut the hell up and get me to Fatburger."

Travis shook his head and made a U-turn, heading back the way they'd come minutes before. Pulling into the drive-thru, he looked at Wes. "What do you want?"

"Large burger, no extra-large burger. Bacon, cheese, tomatoes, no goddamn onions or you'll regret it later. Fries. _Skinny _fries, not those plank things. And a shake. Chocolate." He was quiet for a second before adding, "Please."

"Oh-kaaaay," Travis laughed, turning to the drive-thru speaker. "One extra-large burger, bacon, cheese, tomatoes, no goddamn onions, please." He grinned at Wes' irritation and continued. "One large burger, everything on it, two orders of skinny fries, a chocolate shake and a Coke. Please."

The kid behind the speaker read their order off, gave them their total and requested they pull forward.

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Wes hated being made fun of.

"But you love this jerk," Travis reminded him.

_That I do_, he admitted to himself. "That remains to be seen," he said aloud.

Travis forked over an exorbitant amount of money for two burgers and some extras and handed the paper bag to Wes. He pulled into traffic and by the time he stopped at the light, Wes had mayo and ketchup smeared on his face.

"Wes, what the hell?" He couldn't even pretend to be angry. Eating in the car was strictly _verboten_ when Wes' vehicle was involved. "Think of your car! What if you get mustard on something?"

"I'm thinking of the baby," he mumbled around a mouthful of Fatburger, shoving a couple fries in for good measure.

"You're thinking of your empty stomach," he teased. "But I won't complain. I love a man with a Fatburger in his hand," he sang.

Only Travis would quote a commercial at a time like this. "Juft drife."

Twenty-eight weeks – Still September

"So, does anyone have anything they'd like to share today?" Dr. Ryan was seated in her usual place, looking around the circle. "Anyone have anything that's bothering them that they're having trouble expressing?"

Travis looked at Wes and he subtly shook his head. "Not here, not now, please."

"Wes? Travis? Is there something amiss in your partnership today?" Dr. Ryan was often much too good at her job.

"No, Dr. Ryan," Wes lied. "'We're just fine."

"Everything good with the baby, you feeling okay," she pressed.

"Yep, just fine all around," he assured her.

"Everything is not fine, Wes, why do you always do this?" Travis' face contorted into a mask of pain-fueled anger.

"Why do we have to drag this out here? Why can't we talk about this once we get back home?"

"Home," Travis scoffed. "_My _home or _your _home?"

"Oh boy," Dakota said to her husband.

"This is going to be good," Rozelle agreed.

"You two are awful," Mr. Dumont added.

"Travis, would you like to explain?" Dr. Ryan interjected, always the mediator.

He glared at Wes for a moment before nodding, ignoring the pissed off look he was getting in return. "Yeah, I would. It's actually two things, where do I start?"

"Start with the good part," Dakota suggested.

Dr. Ryan ignored her. "Start with whatever is less important. We'll work up from there."

"Hoo-kay," Travis blew out a breath, gathering his thoughts. "Wes has finally agreed to let me help him through this. Finally." He threw a guarded glance in his partner's direction. "But, he refuses to come stay with me or let me stay with him. Right now, I get it. But soon, he's going to need someone with him at night. He disagrees, of course."

"I can take care of myself," Wes countered. "Besides, I live in a hotel. There's a full staff always on duty, plus a doctor on call. I'll be fine, Travis."

"Did you ever consider that maybe it's not about you being fine but more about you not being alone?" Dr. Ryan's scrutiny seared him.

Wes had no answer for that. He liked having Travis around, but he worried about what would happen after the baby arrived. What if Travis didn't want to stay over any longer? What if he became a burden that Travis wasn't willing to accept? Simply put, _what if it all fell apart?_ Because Lord knows, things were just _soooo perfect_ right now, he chastised himself.

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry, Travis. If you want, maybe you can start staying over a couple times a week. Just in case. I'm still certain I don't need you, but… well, honestly, it might be nice." He didn't vocalize that if it got Travis off his ass, it'd be more than worth it.

He thought Travis would protest, but was surprised when he responded. "It's not ideal, but it'll work for now. We'll have to renegotiate in a few weeks, okay?"

Wes nodded, agreeing reluctantly.

"And the other thing?" Dakota was a gossip and an annoyance, but Wes bit his tongue and kept quiet for a moment.

"Yeees," Dr. Ryan said, resisting the urge to lecture Dakota on group policies. "What was the other thing that has you so upset?"

"Please Travis, can you let this one thing drop?" Wes was desperate.

"No, I can't, Wes. This is a big thing and it's eating me up. I ask and you put me off. It makes me feel like you don't trust me." He rose from his chair and stood looking down at Wes.

Wes squeezed his eyes shut, emotion swirling in his gut. "I trust you, Travis, I can't talk about this, not right now."

"Why?" His voice cracked on the word, stabbing Wes in the heart.

"What's the question he won't answer, Travis?"

He turned to face Dr. Ryan, apprehension clear on his face. "He won't tell me who the baby's father is."

"Travis, why is this so important to you? If he's not in Wes' life any longer, why do you need to know?"

"Because he hurt Wes. He screwed him and left him. And that pisses me off."

Wes could see the tears that threatened to fall. He knew Travis hadn't given in to this kind of hurt in too many years, that he'd found ways to keep his emotions at a distance, but this was eating him up. Wes' resistance to completely open up and share the important things with him had become quite a sticking point for them in recent days, heaven only knew they'd fought about it enough. Wes sighed, waiting out Travis' tirade.

"And because I'd do anything to change things. To make sure this baby was mine. So he wouldn't be alone."

Travis stalked out of the circle, stopping by the exit, head down, fingers pressed to his eyes. Wes looked at him standing there, broken, and a little piece of him died inside. He'd caused this, it was entirely his fault. He'd never once gotten as drunk as he had that night they'd shared the bottle of tequila. If he'd only kept his head, he – and Travis – wouldn't be in this predicament at all. That was a moot point now, however. He focused back on the group, trying to pretend that he hadn't done such damage to the most important relationship he'd ever been in. Looking up, Dr. Ryan's gaze locked onto his.

She knew the truth.

Her expression said it all. She knew that it was Travis all along and she wasn't happy that he was still lying to him about it. He knew he had to fix this, but he didn't know where to begin. If he didn't start somewhere, even in the wrong place, he'd never start at all. And it'd never be right again.

Wes stood and made his way to Travis' side. Touching his partner's arm, he guided him out through the doors and into the hall hoping for some semblance of privacy. He had no intention of telling Travis the truth yet, but he could make him feel better.

"Come on, let's go back to your place and cuddle. I think we have some things to talk about."

Travis nodded, wiping the moisture from his cheeks. "You're still not going to tell me, are you?"

Wes shook his head. "No, I'm not. Not yet."

"Why?" It was a plea more than a question.

"Because it's complicated… and it's hard. I'm sorry." He traced a line up the length of Travis' forearm. "I'm not doing this to be a dick, no matter what you think."

Travis studied him for a moment before nodding. "I believe you, Wes, it just hurts."

"I know it does. And it's going to hurt more when I tell you the truth."

Travis' eyes widened a bit at that piece of information. "Maybe I don't want to know after all. I can't take much more of this."

"Me either," Wes confessed. "You need to know though, as much as I hate to say it."

He nodded, agreeing. "I guess so."

"Come, let's go home. You can stay with me tonight, if you still want to, as long as you aren't late for work in the morning."

"I can do that, baby." Travis paused for a moment, an idea striking him. "Speaking of which, we need to talk baby names."

Wes laughed. Travis' thought processes were a bit odd at the best of times, but the way he switched gears sometimes frightened him. "Yes, that we do. I actually picked up a book for that purpose the other night. If you want, we can look together later. It's in the car."

"You've got a deal, blondie."

Somewhere along the line, they'd silently agreed to drop the issue of Wes' baby daddy temporarily. Travis was not happy about that, but he was just going to have to learn how to deal for now. He knew that if he gave Wes some space and stopped pushing, he'd eventually come around.

"Hey man," Travis said, curling an arm around Wes' shoulder. "Do you think about what the baby is going to look like?"

Wes nodded against Travis' side. "Yes, all the time. I go back and forth between wanting a boy and a girl. A boy like me, with a strong sense of justice, smart, meticulous…"

"OCD," Travis clarified with a grin.

Wes punched him playfully for that remark. "There's nothing wrong with being organized," Wes defended. "But then I think about a little girl, with big blue eyes and dark hair, smiling up at me with a doll in her hands and I think, 'that's just what I want, right there'."

Travis went still. That was the closest hint he'd gotten to the rat bastard's identity. Dark-haired. And if their little girl was going to have big blue eyes, the jerk most likely was blue-eyed too. It wasn't enough to go on, not to find the perp, but it was a start. It was also enough to fuel Travis' fantasies of fathering Wes' child himself, although he'd never admit to that where anyone could hear.

"I think a boy would be awesome," Travis said. "You can play baseball, video games, roughhouse…"

"Teach him piano, help him learn how to cook…"

"Just what kind of son do you plan on raising, huh?" Travis teased. "One that's going to get beat up?"

"You are impossible," Wes snorted, only half kidding.

"Again, that's why you love me so much," Travis reminded him. "I bet the baby will have your eyes, he has to. Your little dimple, too, right there." He touched Wes' face where the offending dent resided. "That would be too much. Way too adorable for words."

Wes was quiet for a moment. "I hope he has his father's smile though," he said almost inaudibly. "He has the most amazing smile." As his voice trailed off, so did his joyful contemplations. He could see that he was causing Travis undue anguish again and he hated himself for it. "I could use your help with something."

Travis perked up. "Really? What?"

"Baby names," he sighed, "I've come to discover that I'm either really awful at this or I'm too emotional to make a rational decision."

"Probably a little of both, Travis teased. "I mean, there's always the obvious." At Wes' questioning expression, he grinned. "Travis, duh. Strong, masculine, great name for a boy."

"Only if you want him to grow into an arrogant, obnoxious detective." Wes winked at him, deflating a little of the statement's harshness. "I'm serious though. I've been through all the standards – Michael, Jonathan, Sarah, Cynthia, you name it. And yes, that includes briefly – very briefly – considering Travis, too. I'm at a loss. I don't want anything bizarre or difficult to spell… I just want something different."

"Every child deserves a name that is uniquely their own. They need to start their lives out with a story, one you can tell them and they can later tell their own kids. I have a story."

Wes smiled remembering the Cabbage Patch doll Travis had gotten his name from. "I do, too, sort of. I was named after a relative who fought and died in the first World War. My father thought it'd give me strength."

"Or cause you to die young," Travis noted, not unreasonably. "So, anything weird is out. No Tanisha or Unik. Got it. What about Buttercup, like you?"

Wes laughed. "Buttercup? Really, Travis? You want me to name my possible daughter _Buttercup_?"

Travis shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"Because we'd be Buttercup and Wesley. I'd feel required to respond to every request with 'as you wish' for the rest of her life. Not to mention I have no desire to become a pirate at this point in my existence."

Travis gaped at him for a moment before chuckling. "Look at you throwing out movie references like that. So, that's a no then?"

"Travis, that's not just a no, but a hell no."

"You can be so difficult," he said.

"I try really hard."

"Keep up the good work, you're doing a finnnnne job." Travis stretched, looking down at his partner snuggled to his side. "I wouldn't stress it too much right now, you still have some time left. Start making a list and carry it with you. The right name will find you."

"That's actually a good idea. Where'd you get that little bit of wisdom?"

"It's something one of my foster moms told one of my foster sisters after she turned up preggo like you." Travis was thoughtful for a moment. "She wound up naming her baby Esmerelda, now that I think about it."

"Ah, okay, so maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," Wes hedged.

"Give it a chance." Travis toyed with Wes' hair quietly. "Do you still want me to stay? You were pretty upset earlier."

Wes rested a hand on Travis' leg, comforting him. "I do believe you were much angrier than I was," he suggested, "I was simply standing my ground."

"I know you were and I respect that," he sighed. "It still bothers me, you know, not knowing."

"I do, but you're going to have to trust me on this for now." Wes wasn't about to budge on this.

"I do trust you, Wes, but that doesn't mean I can't still want to know."

Travis had a point, a good one. "You can want all you like, but I just can't right now. Can you accept that?"

He nodded slowly. "I don't have any choice if I want to be with you, do I?"

Wes laughed, relieved. "No, not a lot, not right now. So, yes, I want you to stay but only as long as you are comfortable doing so."

Travis crushed him in his embrace. "Good damn thing, too, because I wasn't about to go the hell home until we settled this."

"I'm happy to hear it because I wasn't about to let you 'go the hell home' until we found a way to at least agree to disagree on this."

"Does that mean my babies are ready for bed?" He grinned that hopeful, boyish grin that made Wes' heart flutter and his knees weak.

He patted his belly. "Yeah, I think we are, but only if you come along."

"I think that can be arranged."


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: So, this is the last chapter… I hope that it ends the way you all wanted it to. Oh, and since I'm nuts, I didn't want to wait until Monday to post again. That said – HAPPY FRIDAY!_

"_Hope is nature's veil for hiding truth's nakedness" - Alfred Bernhard Nobel_

Thirty-two weeks – October

"Sorry guys," Clyde said, holding up a hand. "I was instructed to keep you two outside until the dicta- I mean, the _ladies _gave me the all clear to let you in."

"All clear?" Wes' eyebrows reached his hairline. "Just what are Dakota and your wife up to in there?"

He shook his head sadly. "I was sworn to secrecy. And even if I wasn't, between us? Those two scare me."

Travis placed a hand over his badge riding on his hip. "We are police officers you know, you can't legally keep us out of anyplace."

"I know, but if I let you in, you'll need backup." He looked over his shoulder through the little window in the door. "Trust me."

The door opened behind him with a grinning Dakota on the other side. "Oh, wonderful, you two have arrived. Come on in." She waved the boys into the therapy room with one hand.

Wes made it three steps inside before stopping dead in his tracks. Pink and baby blue balloons were everywhere with matching streamers hanging from every available ledge, shelf, and rack. Presents were stacked on a folding table in one corner, punch and cookies on another. "What the hell…" Wes wondered aloud.

"Looks like a baby shower, baby. Surprise." Travis pinched his cheek and strutted into the room, soaking up the attention of the women.

"God help me," Wes muttered.

"Believe me, son, I tried to stop them," Mr. Dumont said from beside him.

"It didn't work," Wes obsevered.

"No, no it did not. And I'm sorry for that." He wandered off and sat next to his wife.

"Ah, there's our guest of honor," Dr. Ryan called on spotting Wes in the doorway. "Come in and sit down."

He looked around the room at the excited faces of the women and the tolerant faces of the men. Deciding that it wasn't the end of the world, no matter how embarrassing it was, he conceded to their little plot, if only because he was too exhausted to argue. "Whose idea was this? And why?"

Dakota raised her hand. Of course it was her, how did he not guess? "It was mine. I thought it'd be… cute to give you a shower. Rozelle and Mrs. Dumont agreed. I hope you're not mad."

Wes pinched the bridge of his nose and smiled. "No, I'm not mad. Surprised and a bit embarrassed, yes, but not mad. I'm – I'm flattered. Thank you."

Dakota beamed. "I'm so happy!"

Dr. Ryan smiled at the boys. "I thought we could forgo our usual session today in favor of your baby shower, just this once."

"I wonder how long before we're throwing a bridal shower," Rozelle tossed out.

"The fifteenth of never," Wes said.

"Aw, now Wes, think of the baby," Travis joked. "Do you want him growing up thinking I'm too much of a jerk to make an honest woman out of you?"

Wes rolled his eyes. "I don't even know how to respond to that, Travis."

"Then don't, we have games to play!" Dakota jumped up and took Wes by the hand, using sheer force of will to get him out of his seat.

For the next hour, they laughed, played games and ate cookies. Dakota apologized fifteen times for not bringing a cake, but they couldn't have cared less. Neither had expected anything, so what they got, was more than enough. Near the end of the session, Wes bent over and lifted a wrapped box from the floor.

"Let me get that for you, Papa," Peter offered. "You probably shouldn't be lifting anything right now."

Wes stared as he carried the box, plus a couple gift bags, out to his car where Travis was organizing everything. He tried to protest as Mr. Dumont and Clyde did the same, but no one was listening. Defeated, he sat in a vacant chair, staring at his hands.

"They're trying to be helpful, you know," Dr. Ryan soothed, sitting next to him.

"Maybe. But they all make me feel helpless. Travis wouldn't even let me get the plates out of the cupboard at his place last night. Said it wasn't good to be stretching so much."

"Travis cares about you, he worries that you're going to hurt yourself."

Wes was quiet. He knew that they all meant well and had his best interests at heart, but it didn't make him feel any less inferior.

"Have you told him yet?"

"Told who what?" He'd been lost in his own misery to keep up.

Dr. Ryan smiled that therapist smile of hers. The one that says, 'I know you're avoiding admitting the truth'. "Have you told Travis the truth yet?"

He shook his head. "No, not yet. I'm not sure I even know how."

"Try being honest and straightforward. You've always been good at that." She stood and looked down at him, fingers moving in slow circles on his midsection. "He needs to know. He deserves to know, Wes. Travis would do anything to be a part of a stable family."

"He's told you this?" Wes sat up straighter, interested.

"Not in so many words, but in his actions and reactions, yes."

Wes thought about that. It made sense considering the way he'd been hovering and making him crazy lately. "I'll try, Dr. Ryan, I promise."

"That's all I can ask, I suppose. And it looks like they're all done."

He graced her with a half-smile, watching the entire group filter back in, Travis leading the pack. "You ready, baby? Got the car stuffed to the gills with presents. I don't think this kid of yours is going to want for anything."

_How could he_, Wes thought. _He has everything he needs. _"I think you're probably right, Travis. Help me up and we can go."

Travis held out a hand to his partner, guiding him to his feet. "Mine or yours?"

Wes looked at Travis' smiling, contented face and shrugged. "Tonight, I don't even care, just as long as you're there."

Thirty-seven weeks – late November

Wes slept soundly, Travis snuggled to his back, one arm thrown protectively across his belly. This had become Travis' preferred sleeping position, much to Wes' dismay. No position was comfortable these days, but this one least of all. But he endured for the sake of what he got in return: Travis pressed against him all night long.

A subtle ripple of pain rolled through him, starting in his back and moving forward. Wes opened his eyes, concentrating, waiting to see if it would happen again. He wasn't due for a couple weeks yet, but the doctor had cautioned him about false labor vs. the real thing. A second ripple worked its way around him, stronger this time, leaving him breathless.

This was the real thing.

He swallowed, slowing his breathing, calming himself. "Travis," he said, patting the arm draped casually across him, "wake up."

Travis muttered in his sleep, tightening his grip on Wes' midsection. He snuggled his nose into the blonde's neck and went back to sleep.

"Travis," Wes said more sharply, pain creeping up on him again, "wake up, goddamn you!"

Angry and a bit frightened, he elbowed Travis in the chest, hard enough to startle him awake.

"What the hell, man, I was sleeping," Travis griped.

"I know you were," Wes retorted, half breathless, "and I'm in fucking labor."

That woke him up. "Shit, okay what first?" Travis jumped out of bed and started throwing clothes on haphazardly.

Wes pushed to a sitting position, grimacing. "First, you stop panicking. Second, help me up so I can get somewhat dressed."

"Right." Travis stopped, took a deep breath and tried to focus. "What do you want?"

"Sweats," he gritted out as another contraction passed. "T-shirt. That's enough."

"Wes," Travis asked, worried. "This didn't happen because of…"

"The sex last night?" He shrugged. "I don't know, and it doesn't matter." He'd take one more night over an early labor any day – it had been that worth it, awkward as it was. Wes struggled into his sweats, pulling one of Travis' tees on over his head. "Help me up."

Travis gripped Wes' hand and pulled, gently, until he was on his feet. "Are you sure you can make it to the elevator?"

Wes nodded, unsure but determined to try. They might have to haul him out of the elevator once they hit the ground floor, but he'd worry about that when the time came.

Travis barreled into the parking lot of the hospital, pulling into the drop off lane. A candy striper with a wheelchair was waiting to take Wes in. Sometimes it paid to be a police officer, Travis thought, proud he'd had the foresight to call ahead. He raced to the passenger door, opening it and helping to lift Wes out.

"Where are you taking him," Travis asked, concerned he'd be unable to find them after he'd parked the car.

"Surgery. Third floor," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Surgery?" Travis blood pressure rose.

"Yes," she said calmly, turning Wes' wheel chair towards the hospital doors. "How else did you expect him to give birth?" She raised an eyebrow in amusement and pushed his partner away.

Travis parked in record time, racing across the parking lot on foot, back into the hospital. He looked around for a sign, found the elevator and pushed the button for three. Pacing, he swore at the elevator, accusing it of being slow on purpose. When the doors finally opened, he bolted out and headed right for the nurses' station.

"Hi ladies," he said in his most charming voice, "I'm looking for Wes Mitchell, he should have just been brought up?"

One nurse clacked on her keyboard momentarily before looking up. "Yes, Mr. Mitchell was just taken into surgery for a C-section. If you have a seat, we can let you know when he's out."

"No, wait, you ladies don't understand. I need to be with him. He can't do this without me." _I can't do this without him_.

"We're sorry, Mr. uh…" the nurse trailed off, waiting for him to supply his name.

"Marks. Travis Marks. Why can't I be in there with him?"

"It's just the rules, sir, I'm sorry. C-sections on women may be routine, but they're still a new procedure on men, therefore no one outside of the doctors, nurses and the patient himself are allowed in the room during the surgery."

Travis felt defeated. Helpless. There was nothing for him to do but wait.

Waiting sucked.

"Mr. Marks," a nurse called finally, after what seemed weeks. "Mr. Mitchell is out of surgery and is in his room, recovering. He's sleeping, but you're welcome to go in and sit with him for a bit, if you'd like."

"I'd like very much, thank you."

"He's in room 3035."

Travis thanked her and went in search of Wes. He found the room with little trouble, knocked before entering. "Baby, you in here?"

He received no answer, so he pushed the door open and found the blonde sleeping soundly in the bed. A smile creased his face. Wes looked at peace for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun. Travis placed a soft kiss to his forehead and looked for a chair to crash in. What he found instead was the baby.

Surprised that they'd leave the infant in with his father after having had surgery, he figured that the nurses probably knew better than he did and let it go. Curious, he moved towards the clear plastic crib and looked inside. What he saw almost knocked him to the floor.

Swaddled in a standard hospital blanket, a little face stared out at him. A tiny, perfect face with clear blue eyes, round cheeks, and café au lait skin. Travis blinked, unsure if his eyes were pulling one over on him. Dark, wavy hair poked out from under the edge of the blanket. He looked at Wes, still sleeping. Could this really be? Or was he deceiving himself?

He was going to have to wait for Wes to wake up before he'd know for sure.

Had he mentioned lately just how much waiting sucks?

Wes stirred, stretching and stopping painfully partway through. _Right. The baby._ He looked around until his eyes settled on the crib. His daughter stared back at him, her wide eyes taking in everything, tiny fist shoved into her mouth. _His daughter. _ His and _Travis' _daughter at that. He could see her other daddy reflected in the shape of her face, the caramel color of her skin, and it made his heart thump in his chest.

"Hey, you're awake," Travis said from the corner.

He startled, looking up at his partner. "Yeah, finally. How long have I been out?"

Travis frowned slightly, thinking. "A few hours, not long. How are you feeling?" He stood and came to Wes' side, taking his hand.

"Okay," he said slowly. "I'm sore, but I think I'll live." He tried stretching again, more slowly this time. "Have you been here the whole time?"

Travis squeezed his hand. "Yeah, you think I was gonna leave your side at a time like this? There was almost a throwdown in the lobby when they told me I couldn't follow you in to surgery."

Wes laughed, that was so typically Travis. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Travis shrugged, sitting on the edge of Wes' bed. "Is there something we need to talk about here?" His voice was barely audible, fear lacing every word.

The blonde sighed before looking up and meeting Travis' eyes. "Yeah, there is. You hate me, don't you?"

Travis looked down at their intertwined hands for a moment, composing himself. "I'm torn. I want to hate you for not telling me but I'm also confused. I mean, when and like, _how_?"

"I'd think the how would be obvious, Trav," Wes laughed, "we've been practicing it enough." He gripped his partner's hand more tightly before continuing. "The when, however, is a bit more complicated."

"How so?" Travis stroked his thumb along the top of Wes' hand.

"Do you remember when we closed the Cullen case?"

"Yeah, I do. You made that spectacular collar and then…" Travis went still.

Wes could see it, the moment the connection was made. Understanding dawned and Travis' smile faltered.

"Shit. We slept together that night? I guess I can understand now why you didn't tell me. I didn't even remember, Wes. I'm such an ass." Something akin to shame clouded his features.

"Yes, you can be, but in this case, I can't blame you. If I hadn't woken up aching that morning, I wouldn't have remembered either. I did, however, have the benefit of waking up naked, you by my side, my body screaming in places I didn't know could hurt."

Travis smiled, partly proud of himself. "I'm sorry, Wes."

"Don't be, we've come a long way these last few months. You've really proved to me that you're more than an annoying jerk of a partner though, stepping up and helping me through this, even without knowing."

"Hey, I'm your partner and your friend. It's what we do."

"It is. But you're so much more, too, Travis." He looked over at the crib, their daughter now sleeping peacefully in the crib.

"Yeah, I am, aren't I?" The pride was obvious in his voice. For once it was not just welcomed, but deserved. "Did you ever decide on a name?"

Wes nodded. "I did. I want to call her Violet."

"Violet? That's cute but… not what I expected from you. I was thinking Regina or something nearly as officious."

"You're using big words again, Travis, it scares me." He grinned at his lover, teasing. "Well, it was you that gave me the idea."

"I did? How?"

"Your favorite nickname for me," Wes hinted, "gave me the idea."

"Blondie? She's nowhere near being blonde, I hate to tell you that."

"No," Wes chuckled. "The other one. Buttercup."

It was Travis' turn to laugh. "Oh, yes, that one. My delicate little flower."

Wes snorted. "Not quite, but I figured no matter what I named her, you'd have a million nicknames for her anyway. But I thought it fit."

He nodded in agreement. "It does. So, Violet what?"

"I'm not sure. What do you think?"

He put two fingers to his chin, looking over at the tiny girl in the crib. "Storm. Yeah, I think that's about right. Part you – delicate little flower that you are – and part me…"

"Unpredictable, uncontrollable force of nature? Yes, I think you're right, that fits."

Travis mock glared at him. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are right now? I could kill you if we weren't in a hospital."

Wes laughed. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I know just how lucky I am. Trust me." He leaned into Travis' body, inhaling his presence. "Go on, go get her. I know you're dying to."

His eyes twinkled with glee. "Can I, really?"

He nodded. "She's yours too, you know."

Travis lifted her from the crib and cradled her to his body. Violet shifted and settled, falling immediately back to sleep. Her little lips pursed in contentment, baby sighs coming regularly. "I can get used to this," he whispered, afraid of waking her.

Wes watched the two of them together, happier than he'd ever been in his life. "I think I can, too."

Age: Five weeks – January

"Luuuuuucy, I'm home," Travis announced, shutting the hotel room door behind him.

"Hey, it's about time," Wes kidded, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek. "How was your day? You look awfully happy for chasing crazed murderers around all day."

"Well, that part of my day sucked, stupid bastard got to another victim, but I do have some good news."

Wes sat, balancing Violet in one arm. "Color me intrigued."

Travis held up a section of today's newspaper, waving it from side to side. "I think I've found us a place."

"Really? That's wonderful. Let's hear it." Wes hadn't been fully on board with moving in with Travis on a permanent basis, but the longer he stayed with Wes in his hotel, the more he'd come to consider the option. All they needed was the right place.

He tossed the paper onto the coffee table. "Four bedrooms, two bath. Big yard, nice neighborhood. Even checked out the schools in the area, all top-notch. We just have to go look at it."

Wes was intrigued. "It sounds almost too good to be true. Have you looked into the seller?"

Travis grinned. "I knew you'd ask about that so I went ahead and ran a background check on them both. Middle-aged couple, no kids, no criminal record. Also, no record of any criminal activity in or near the house."

He was pleased. Travis had covered all the bases he would have himself. "Have you looked at it yet?"

Travis dropped onto the couch next to Wes, tickling his daughter under her chin. "Aww, there's my girl and her little dimple," he cooed.

"Travis?" He was so easily distracted when Violet was around.

"Give her to me and I'll tell you the rest." He was a con artist, too, Wes noted.

He handed the baby over, shaking his nearly numb arm out a bit. "Okay, you have her, now talk."

Travis babbled to the baby for a few more minutes before turning his attention back to Wes. "I hope you're not mad, but I did go look and it's gorgeous. Wood floors, freshly painted walls. Gorgeous lawn," he said, knowing it would catch Wes' attention. "Trees, flowers, lots of room to run and play."

"How much?" The cost wasn't important, Wes had more than enough money stashed away that he could pay cash for whatever Travis could find. But Travis would mind if it was too far out of what he considered average.

"Not nearly as much as I expected." He pointed to the paper and Wes picked it up, looking at the circled ad.

"Hmph," he acknowledged, "not bad at all. What did you tell the couple selling?"

He looked sheepish. "That we were a couple with an infant looking for a good first house."

"And?" Wes knew there was something else he wasn't being told.

"And… maybe that we'd… take it?" He brought Violet around front and center, presumably to keep Wes from murdering him in front of her.

"You are too much. How about we go look tomorrow before we make any rash decisions?"

"I guess we could do that, too," he agreed, giving his lover that special smile he reserved only for him.

"Good. Put her in her playpen and go shower. Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Okay, baby. But one question." Wes looked at him, waiting. "Cap asked when you were planning on coming back. The norm for maternity leave is eight weeks."

It was something that had been on his mind for quite some time. He had thought he'd be chomping at the bit to get back as soon as he possibly could, but being at home with Violet, playing housewife had begun to appeal to him. "I don't know yet. You can tell him that it'll be at least another three or four weeks. I'm finding it hard to leave her long enough to make her a bottle."

Travis' heart swelled. "I'm right there with you, pal. And Dr. Ryan called me today, everyone's wondering when we're bringing the little one around."

That was something else Wes had been thinking about. Dakota had contacted him with an offer of her time once he'd gone back to work. She didn't work and was looking for something useful to occupy her time. As much as the woman made him crazy, he thought she might be just right to care for their daughter during the day. "When's our next session supposed to be?"

"Thursday," he called from the hallway, disrobing as he made his way to the bedroom. "Why?"

"I think Thursday might be the perfect time to introduce her to the group."

Age: Five weeks and a few days – January

"OHMYGOSHJUSTLOOKITHER!" Dakota's squeal could quite possibly be heard across the border in the Silver State as loud as she was. "And you really want me to watch her once you go back to work?"

"Of course, you'd be perfect. So sweet and energetic," Travis said. "She needs someone like that in her life."

"Awesome," Dakota squealed a second time, walking off, hijacking their child in the process.

"Dakota, wait," Wes began.

Travis stopped him, "Let her go. Give yourself a break."

"Travis is right, let her have her fun. As soon as you leave here, she's back to being your responsibility. Enjoy these few moments as you get them." Dr. Ryan walked off to join the women cooing over little Violet.

"Good job, boys," Mr. Dumont congratulated them, sitting in a seat to their right. "Babies are a blessing and a curse, but you will never regret it."

"We certainly hope not," Travis agreed.

"She's an angel," Rozelle announced, "an absolute angel."

"Of course she is," Travis preened, "she's my child. How could she not?"

"Do you want a list, Travis, because I have one." Wes joked.

"You are such a spoilsport," Travis pouted.

"That's not what I was hearing earlier," he whispered so the others couldn't hear.

"Okay, if we can hand the little one back to either of her daddies, we'll begin," Dr. Ryan said, attempting to regain control of her session.

"How about I just keep her and we can start," Dakota suggested hopefully.

Dr. Ryan looked at the boys and Wes grinned. "We'll never get started otherwise, Dr. Ryan, she might as well."

"Well okay then, let's begin. Since you two have finally returned, I thought we'd start our session off by talking about change and how it can affect our relationships. Change comes in many forms, some of it good, some of it not so good…"

Wes tuned her out, knowing just how much change could alter your view on life. A year ago, he'd have laughed at the idea of having a child of his own. Even a home to call his was out of the question. Now he had it all plus some. He had Violet, and he might even have a home – an actual house this time – to share with her. And they both had Travis.

He had a family.

It might not be perfect, but it was his, and that was enough for now.

Until he could find the nerve to propose to Travis. But that wasn't important right this moment. What was important is that they were together. The rest would come in time.

For the first time in his life, Wes Mitchell was content to wait and see.


End file.
